The smoke from the cigarette billowed out of in front of him, Simon’s nerves relaxing as the nicotine coursed through his veins. This was his one vice that you didn’t like, and especially with the baby on the way, he tried to limit himself as much as he could.
But it was hard sometimes. Most of the time.
The sun peeked up from the horizon and the smell of morning dew wafted over Simon as he took another drag of the cigarette before grinding it out on the ash tray he brought outside.
You looked through the kitchen window, seeing Simon’s broad back to you. He had abruptly woken up while you were getting ready for work and was out of the room before you could ask what was wrong.
You suspected he’d had another nightmare, so you were giving him his space to process it before you went to him. You understood when he needed time to himself, and you didn’t want to smother him. He’d let it be known when he needed you.
Simon stared out at the beautiful array of colors in the sky, contemplating his dream. He had frequent nightmares thanks to his PTSD, but this one was particularly rough. He’d seen visions of Harper, visions he would never wish upon his worst enemy.
Blood, so much blood. Red, red, red. On the walls, on the floor, on his hands. Tears streaking down his face. His little girl’s pleas for help. But he couldn’t do anything. He was utterly helpless.
Simon’s breath grew shaky as he tried to keep his emotions at bay.
He had woken up in a panic at 4:30 am, the visceral nightmare making his breathing choppy. He’d immediately went and checked on Harper, seeing her peacefully asleep in her bed, her chest rising and falling with her soft breaths. His heart calmed at the sight of her safe, but the visions continued to haunt him. Hence the cigarette.
As you gathered your stuff to head to the hospital, Simon walked in through the back door. He looked at you with sleepy yet alert eyes, his hair disheveled from sleep. He walked toward you and you met him halfway, wrapping your arms around his torso in a hug the best you could with your eight months pregnant belly in the way.
“Nightmare?” you questioned, feeling him nod his head as his arms came around you too.
“Wanna talk about it?”
“Not yet,” Simon replied, his voice gruff. He wasn’t ready to rehash the details.
You reluctantly let go of him, running a soothing hand down his arm.
“I can call in and stay with you,” you offered, wanting to be there in case he needed you. “I have a good excuse since my due date’s coming up.”
But Simon shook his head no, giving you a small, reassuring smile.
“Okay, but you’ll call if you need me?”
“Of course,” he said, appreciating that you didn’t press him on the matter.
You and Simon made your way to the door, kissing goodbye before you left on your forty-five-minute drive to work. You lived on a relatively secluded farmhouse in the British countryside, and the nearest town was a good drive away. You didn’t mind, though, as the sights made it worth it.
After your departure, Simon went about his day, preparing for Harper’s teacher to come at 9. She was still getting accustomed to life, so you and Simon had decided to have Harper homeschooled for the time being. You would eventually transition her to a nearby school when she was ready.
It was discovered that Harper was an orphan, her birth parents having died when she was just a baby. When Simon found this out, you and he had a lengthy conversation about the options. Obviously, she would go up for adoption, but Harper was already doing so well with you guys, and you didn’t want to disrupt her life even more by having her put in foster care. So, you decided to adopt her.
The process was still ongoing, even after four months, but you were excited at the prospect of her officially being your daughter—not that you didn’t already think she was. She was, by all means, your child.
Simon turned on the TV, attempting to ease his nerves by catching up on last night’s Manchester United that he had missed. A steaming cup of his favorite tea sat on the coffee table as he tried to shift his focus to the game highlights, but his mind continued to wander to the nightmare.
At fifteen past seven, he heard little footsteps coming down the stairs. Harper walked over to where Simon was seated on the couch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Her hair was a mess and her PJ’s were askew, signaling that she’d had a good night’s rest.
It was something she struggled with when she first started living with you and Simon, but months of therapy was putting her on the right track, and she was having less and less episodes with each passing week.
“Good morning, my sweet girl,” Simon said as Harper approached him, holding his arms open. She crawled into his lap and found a comfortable position before relaxing into him, her cheek resting against his chest in a way that still gave her a view of the TV. She rather enjoyed watching football with her dad, laughing every time Simon groaned at a bad play and cheering with him for every goal.
“Sleep good?” Simon questioned, to which she nodded her head. Harper still had trouble speaking, her therapist telling you she suffered from selective mutism. Your heart ached at the thought of all the trauma she had been through to get to this point, but you were relieved that she was making good progress.
After twenty minutes of mindless TV, Harper looked up at Simon, patting her belly.
“All right then,” Simon said, letting Harper get down before he got to his feet. “Let’s get some food in ya.”
At the hospital, you clocked in for your shift and got about to business, tidying up your desk, which was often scattered with papers and pens due to the craziness of the ER. You chatted with nurses, looked over patient files, treated those in need, and took frequent breaks due to sore feet and a weak bladder.
The day was going by normally, the ER a little quiet today, thankfully. Well, it was going normally until about 1:23 pm. You were heading back to the nurses’ station after checking in on a patient when all of a sudden you were assaulted by a searing pain in your abdomen and lower back. You breathed through it, huffing out short breaths in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
“You okay, Dr. Riley?” Amanda, the charge nurse, asked at the look of pain on your face.
“Oh yeah, nothing of concern,” you reassured, but just as quickly as the pain had subsided, it resurfaced. This time you were left hunched over and feeling nauseous, and not even a minute later, you felt wetness seep through your scrub pants, fluid gathering in a pool underneath you.
You looked at the pool of fluid, dazed and confused. But only for a second, because you quickly realized what was happening.
“Um, actually, Amanda, if you wouldn’t mind bringing me that wheelchair?” you pointed to the corner where the contraption sat. “I think my water just broke.”
Simon was sitting at the kitchen counter, catching up on reports while Harper and her teacher went about their lesson at the dining table, when his phone rang. Your name flashed across the screen.
“It’s time,” your pained voice reverberated across the phone. “The baby’s coming.”
In an instant, Simon was out of his chair. “Right now?”
“Yes, Simon. Right now,” you wailed, before the line went dead.
“Shit,” he muttered, making his way to the dining room.
“We have to go,” he grunted out to the teacher before getting down on a knee in front of Harper. “Mommy’s having the baby now, so we have to go to the hospital.”
You and Simon had sat Harper down a couple weeks ago to let her know how things would go when her sibling was arriving. It helped reduce her anxiety about the situation, and really, it was just good to be prepared.
As Harper’s teacher made her way out of the house, Simon frantically ran around gathering up the go-bags, his excitement and fear skyrocketing through the roof.
It’s time, your voice echoed through his head. His heart beat at a concerning pace, but he busied himself with tasks to keep the panic at bay. He dialed your sister’s number to let her know in case you hadn’t gotten the chance to call her.
“I’m on my way to the hospital right now,” your sister said in lieu of a greeting, understanding how overwhelmed he probably felt right now. She lived in town so she’d get there sooner than he would and would be able to help while Simon drove there.
He blew out a quick breath of relief.
“Thank you.” And then he was out of the house with Harper.
Like a bat out of hell, Simon sped—reasonably—down the winding roads and onto the main highway that would take him to his destination.
He sporadically checked on Harper, only to see her peaceful gaze on the views outside the window. At least she wasn’t panicking. He’d take any win he could get at this point.
Once at the hospital, Simon zoomed into a parking spot and jumped out the vehicle, almost forgetting to turn it off. He grabbed Harper and the bags, and they both ran inside, stopping to a halt at the front desk.
“Maternity ward,” Simon said, more as a demand than a question. The lady at the desk jumped at the sudden intrusion, but let Simon know the floor.
At the ward, Simon inquired about your room with the head nurse, letting her know he was your husband, then went to find your sister.
“Lily!” he practically yelled at the sight of her dark hair in the waiting room, catching her attention.
“Hey,” she replied, frantically approaching the bedraggled duo, holding her daughter’s hand. “I’ll take Harper, you go. It’s room-”
“I know. Thank you.” Simon then turned his attention to his daughter, getting down to her eye level. “Hey, baby girl. Dad’s gonna go look after mum now, okay. You think you can stay with your aunt and cousin for now?” he asked, making sure Harper felt comfortable with her new surroundings. But she barely listened to him as she absentmindedly nodded her head, engrossed in what her cousin Nina was showing her on her iPad.
Simon gave a Harper a quick kiss before turning around and sprinting in the opposite direction.
2408…2410…2412…2414. This is the one.
Although the hallway was in no way quiet, Simon particularly homed in on your pained howls echoing through the closed door. He noticed his hand shaking as he went to open the door, reminding himself to take a deep breath to steady his nerves.
As soon as he entered the hospital room, he was met with the sight of you lying in bed, your face red and in agony. His eyes instantly met yours, as they often did. You could be in a room with a million other people, and somehow, he’d always notice you first.
At the sight of your husband, you broke down. You were so instantly calmed by his presence that it overwhelmed you.
“Are you the dad?” the OB asked sweetly, to which Simon nodded his head. “Perfect! Mom over here was very distressed at your absence.”
He scurried by your side, and as soon as he was in reaching distance, you leaned up a little and wrapped your arms around him. No words were able to leave you, not just because of the pain but also at the relief of him finally being here.
“I got you, my love,” Simon whispered into your ear, slowly easing you back into the bed.
“Okay, so it looks like you’re about 5 cm dilated right now,” the OB said. “I’ll be back to check on you, but at this rate, you should be able to deliver soon.”
The next hour was a whirlwind, nurses traipsing in and out, Simon’s surroundings a blur of wires and beeps and huffing breaths. When it came time for you to finally deliver, you felt your anxiety coming to a head.
“I’m scared,” you cried, gripping onto Simon’s hand like a lifeline.
“I know, my love. I know,” he cooed, keeping his tone a lot more relaxed than he actually felt. “This is scary for me too. But, hey, it’s gonna be over soon, and then we’ll have a little bugger to take home with us.”
You tried to laugh, tried to let the picture of your little baby in your arms calm you down, but the panic overtaking you didn’t allow that. Deep breaths weren’t going to cut it this time.
Simon noticed this, seeing the fear still glowing in your eyes. He pressed a reassuring kiss to your forehead, that sweet smell of vanilla that always seemed to follow you overtaking his senses. He had to make sure you were okay.
“I am with you every step of the way,” Simon said. “You wanna scream? Scream. You wanna squeeze my hand ‘till it breaks…well, you can try,” he joked with a teasing smirk. “Whatever you need, I will give it you. I’ll take care of you.”
You nodded your head, knowing that every word Simon just said was true. He had never once let you down, and he was a man of his words. Your anxiety wouldn’t fade right away, but you’d let your husband’s comfort overtake you until it did. It’s the most you could hope for.
And after an amount of time neither you nor Simon could gauge, you’d finally given birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. You had cried with the unending happiness and love when you finally got to hold your daughter, Simon right alongside you as he gazed at his daughter’s beautiful face, and then at yours.
When the nurse had taken her away and told you her weight, you and Simon had laughed. At 4.2 kilograms, she was a little bigger than normal, and the irony wasn’t lost on you. She was, after all, Simon Riley’s daughter.
Back in the recovery room, Simon brought Harper in to meet her sister and was pleasantly surprised at how easily she took to her. You let Harper sit on your bed as you cradled your baby, letting her play with her and take in the new addition to the family.
Harper was beyond excited, if not a little nervous, about her baby sister. But she was gentle and immediately took on a big sister role, much to your delight.
This moment was one for the books. For the longest time, you were Simon’s only family, the only one he could trust and confide in. But now, he had more than he ever imagined he could have.
“Baby cousin!” Nina’s shriek echoed through the room, none of you noticing that her and Lily had come in.
“Okay, now. Be gentle. She’s sleeping,” Lily said to her daughter, following after her. At the sight of your newborn baby, Lily let out an adoring sigh, looking at you with tear filled eyes. “She’s so perfect, bee,” she said, using your childhood nickname.
“I know,” you replied, getting just as emotional as her. “I can’t stop looking at her.”
The baby had blonde hair just like Simon’s, and her small button nose and chubby cheeks were the most adorable thing you’d ever seen in your life.
“Takes after Simon, doesn’t she?” Lily remarked.
“Cheeky,” he said, but secretly loving the fact.
“Sure does,” you stated, secretly loving the fact too. She was a perfect little piece of you and Simon, a testament to your love and commitment to each other.
Much of the day passed with family and friends trickling in and out, sharing in this happy moment with you. And although Simon tried not to let any negativity seep into this joyous moment, he couldn’t help but feel the stinging pain of loss at the absence of his own family.
It was often a hard pill to swallow, the fact that his mother, brother, even his nephew, were gone. That they’d never be able to share happy moments with him again.
But when his baby girl had opened her eyes for the first time, they were hazel. A striking, mesmerizing hazel that were so familiar to him, it almost brought him to his knees. Neither you nor Simon had hazel eyes, but obviously it had skipped a generation.
It was like his mother had sent a piece of her down to him, something for him to take solace in and to know that she would always be with him. That was also the moment you had known what you were going to name your daughter.
That night, when darkness kissed the sky and crickets chirped outside the open window, you broached the subject with Simon.
“What if we named her Margaret?” you asked him as he held the baby to his chest, taking in that newborn scent.
Simon paused in his pacing to look at you, seeing the sincerity on your face. His heart burst like a dam, the emotions he had been holding back flooding to the surface.
And you knew the answer just by the sheen in his eyes.
***
Later that night, when you and the baby were fast asleep, Simon didn’t dare to close his eyes. He gazed at your serene face, a little jealous of how your dreams never tormented you, but at the same time relieved that you didn’t have to go through what he did. Visions of his nightmare mixed with the memory of his daughter’s birth and the liveliness of the room as people came to see her.
His tired eyes drooped, and he was happy. He was so goddamn happy, but he was also restless. And scared.
Would he be able to protect all of you? Would he ever feel normal? Would his trauma continue to burden him, and inadvertently put that burden on you?
What Simon didn’t realize was that you were restless too, your anxiety from before morphing into something else. Anxiety about the future, about raising your daughters, about…everything, it felt like.
You opened your eyes, ready to accept that fact that you wouldn’t sleep tonight, when you noticed Simon sitting up on the couch to your right.
“Si?” You sat up in bed, reaching your hand out to call him over. He complied, coming over to you. He sat at the edge of your bed, a hesitant look on his face. “You okay?”
Simon considered lying. Considered telling you he wasn’t plagued with so many negative emotions so close to the miracle that happened today, because they weren’t supposed to. Right?
“No.” He settled on the truth instead. “I mean, yes. But also no, in many ways.”
“Tell me what’s going on,” you said, reaching up to cup his cheek. You ran your thumb across it, the feeling of his slight stubble something you’d never stop loving.
He smiled, leaning down to place a soft kiss on your lips.
“I don’t know,” he sighed, straightening himself. “I feel like I should be happier. I am happy, don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy. But I can’t stop thinking about the nightmare.” He described what he saw to you, how he felt helpless. “I’ll never be enough. Nothing I do will ever be a 100% guarantee that you and Harper and Margaret are safe.”
You stared into Simon’s eyes, feeling the anguish radiating off of him.
“Simon, you are enough. You’re more than enough. You are so much more than your ability to keep us safe. A loving husband, a doting father, and most of all, a human being. You have to give yourself a break.” You slid over on the bed, indicating for him to sit beside you. He did so, maneuvering himself to give you ample space.
You rested your head on his shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in the subtle scent of his cologne. “It’s okay to feel doubt. God knows I do. It feels like I go through everyday not knowing what the fuck I’m doing. Every moment I spend with Harper is a moment that’s tainted with the fear that I’m doing her more harm than good.”
“You’re amazing with her,” Simon interjected. “You’re exactly the kind of patient and adoring presence she needs.”
“And so are you, Si. Don’t think for a second that you’re not just as patient with her.” You looked up at him to see him already looking at you. “Who’s been the one to guide Harper through her panic attacks, or plan her lessons with her teacher, or take care of her when I’m not home? It’s all been you. You care about her so much, and she sees that. She loves you.”
Simon contemplated, thinking back to a couple weeks ago when Harper had woken up in the middle of night screaming. Both your hearts had stopped, thinking something horrible was happening. As it was, Harper had had a bad dream, not unlike the ones Simon himself experienced. She was shaking like a leaf and refused to let either of you touch her, and Simon had been the one to help her through the panic attack and calm her down.
“A lot of things are out of our control. But what is in our control is what we do and what we say. It’s a lot of faith to put in ourselves, but that’s what we gotta do,” you shrugged. “Everything else is arbitrary.”
Simon relaxed into you, taking in your words. You were right, you rarely ever weren’t.
When Margaret started crying, he brought her to you, and gazed in wonder as you fed and comforted her. You whispered sweet words to her and held her close, and when she finally went back to sleep, Simon decided he would take this newfound joy he felt because of his family and pocket it. Relive that feeling when nothing else made sense. And he would never stop trying his hardest.
summary: your husband is finally back home from a mission, but he's brought home a little girl, and he's struggling with what he saw.
read pt.2
You had been preparing yourself a glass of ice water before bed when you heard the beeping of the electronic keypad from your front door. There was only one person besides you who could unlock the high-tech security system that secured your house: Simon. A flood of excitement rushed through you as you put your glass down and ran to the front door, giddy with happiness at your husband’s arrival. You knew he was due back home soon, but as it usually went with military deployments, the dates were always tentative.
But, to your surprise, when the door opened, you didn’t just see your hulking, 6’4 husband at the door, but also a little girl, no older than maybe seven years. Your eyes bounced between the two as you saw Simon guide the girl through the door; the little girl who looked terrified out of her mind as her eyes darted around the dark entryway. As she began to cower away from the darkness, Simon turned on the light that illuminated the foyer, finally bringing you into his view.
His eyes jumped to you in an instant, an intense melancholy and fatigue written all over his face. That’s also when you heard a faint sniffle from the little girl, and when you looked down, your heart broke at the sight of her. Bruises littered her arms and legs, all in different stages of healing, along with countless cuts, scars, and what looked like cigarette burn marks. She had on tattered clothes and shoes, but what really sent you over the edge was the black eye that marred her right eye.
Both your motherly instincts and your doctor training kicked into overdrive. Being five-months pregnant was putting you into protective mama bear mode, and your ER doctor training was telling you to get this girl to a hospital to see if she had any broken bones or internal bleeding. Ultimately, you took a deep breath and decided the girl just needs to feel safe right now.
“Hi there,” you chirped, slowly approaching the little girl, cautious of the fact that she was extremely scared and was thus probably sensitive to sudden gestures. The girl brought her gaze up off the floor to look at you, distrust and fear still evident in her eyes. You then introduced yourself to her, but when you asked for her name, she remained quiet.
“She hasn’t spoken since we rescued her,” Simon spoke up for the first time. “It’s gonna take the boys a while to find her family without her name, so I thought…” That she’d be safe with us tonight.
You nodded before asking, “Did the medic check her out?”
“Just barely, once we got onto the plane,” Simon replied. “I came here as soon as we landed back at base.”
“Okay,” you said, finally turning your attention back to the girl. You got down to her eye-level so as not to make her feel anymore threatened. “How ‘bout I make you a nice PB&J, and then we can get you cleaned up and into a fresh pair of pajamas?” you asked, keeping your tone light and how you usually did with your younger patients.
The girl continued looking at you, but remained silent. After a moment, you asked, “What if I brought the food to you here?”
The tense line of the girl’s shoulders relaxed a little, and some of the tightness in her face dissipated. You took that as a confirmation and smiled softly, nodding your head again.
“Stay with her,” you said to Simon, before rushing into the kitchen and hastily putting together the sandwich. With a plate of food and a glass of water in your hands, you went back to the foyer, both Simon and the girl standing in the exact same place as where you’d left them. You handed the girl her food and placed the water next to her, letting her get comfortable and do things at her own pace.
You thought in the meantime you could speak with Simon, but when you turned your head, he wasn’t in the foyer anymore. Not wanting to leave the girl alone, you stayed with her as she ate, continuing to talk to her in the hopes of making her feel safer and more comfortable.
The girl ate slowly, taking big gulps of water in between bites, and your heart continued to break at her timidness, not daring to think of the kind of atrocities she’d probably had to face in her short life.
After a while, with food in her belly and her thirst quenched, the girl finally gave you a small smile, letting you take her upstairs. You prepared a warm bath for her in the guest bathroom, putting in salts and adding in bubbles so that she could soak her bruises and maybe get some relief for the night.
You had some of your niece’s clothes in the dresser, and although she was a bit older than this little girl, the oversized pajamas would have to do for tonight. You’d go get her some new clothes first thing in the morning.
“I’ve left a towel and some clothes for you on the counter here once you’re done,” you instructed the girl, placing the items next to the sink for her to see. She nodded, and you turned to leave so she could get to it, but then she pulled on your shirtsleeve. When you turned back to her, she was pointing to the spot in front of the bathroom door, small grunts leaving her throat as she tried to voice something to you.
Initially, you didn’t get what she was saying, thinking she was trying to point something out to you that you didn’t see. But when understanding dawned, your heart melted a little. “You want me to wait out there for you?” you asked.
The girl’s eyes lit up as she furiously nodded her head, and you chuckled, happy that you were able to gain just a little bit of her trust. You went and stood in the spot the girl indicated, and she closed the door behind her, though not all the way, leaving it slightly ajar.
You went and rested on the chair in the corner of the room, your feet starting to get sore as they tended to at this point in your pregnancy.
Time passed sluggishly as you scrolled on your phone, the minutes blending together and a wicked tiredness engulfing you from head to toe. You didn’t want to leave the room in case the girl needed something, so you slowly started dozing off in the chair when you finally heard the squeak of the bathroom door. You looked up to the see the girl walking out, her head swiveling and catching sight of you. She approached you with a hairbrush in her hands and the legs of the pajama bottoms dragging behind her.
“Let me fix those for you,” you said as you bent down and cuffed the pants to fit the girl better. Once you did so, she handed you the hairbrush, silently asking you to detangle her hair for her. It was going to be a feat because a lot of her hair was matted, and you knew you were going to have to be very gentle. The girl turned around and you thought she was going to sit on the floor in front of you, but instead she planted herself on your lap. A rush of warmth and affection flooded your body, the immense need to protect the girl overtaking your senses.
While you were brushing her hair, the girl looked around the room, familiarizing herself with her surroundings. When her eyes landed on the stack of magazines on the side table next to you, she froze, and then abruptly stood up, startling you.
“I’m not done-“ you began, but then saw that the girl was pointing at the magazine on the top of the stack.
“Oh that’s a magazine. My favorite one, actually ” you said in reference to the old issue of Harper’s Bazaar she was pointing at. But then the girl started aggressively tapping the cover, so you leaned in closer to get a better look and saw that she was specifically pointing at Harper’s.
“Is your name Harper?”
She aggressively nodded again, in the way she does when you understand what she’s saying.
You finally had her name, and you felt much better now that you knew the girl was feeling comfortable enough to tell it to you.
“Harper,” you said, and she beamed up at you, her smile brighter than any other she had given you tonight.
With this happy revelation, you finished brushing Harper’s hair and then finally tucked her into bed. The poor girl was so exhausted that she passed out as soon as her head hit the pillow.
You closed the door behind you with a soft thud as you left the room. As happy as you were with the progress you’d made with Harper, you were equally concerned for your husband. Obviously, what he’d seen had affected him, and all you wanted was to be there for him, but you and Simon both knew Harper took precedence in this situation.
Every second Simon spent looking at the girl sent him into a spiral of unspeakable sadness and anger. He knew that the little girl’s captives were dead, and that they couldn’t bring her anymore harm, but that didn’t lessen the red that clouded his vision, or dull the melancholy he felt.
Simon had to leave the room as soon as he saw the girl was safe and being cared for by you. Of course, he felt bad leaving his pregnant wife to look after a little girl he had just brought into their house, but he was spiraling and he didn’t know what to do.
Blindly, he went to the alcohol bar in the corner of the living room and grabbed his favorite bottle of Bourbon and a rocks glass. He poured himself two fingers of the liquor, breaking the promise he made to himself to not drink while you were pregnant. He was abstaining as an act of solidarity since he knew how much you missed your wine, but these circumstances called for a little bit of medicine.
Simon then found himself pouring another two fingers of the liquid, and then another, before deciding to cool it—albeit with much difficulty. He couldn’t leave you caring for a little girl and an inebriated husband.
He couldn’t understand what compelled him to bring the girl home with him, why her appearance and disposition brought him so much anguish. Except he did; he understood that he saw so much of the broken boy he used to be in that little girl. It made him want to throw up.
The moment Simon laid eyes on the bruised and battered girl in that shit hole of a basement, he was transported back to his childhood. Visions of belts and fists and blacks and blues clouded his mind like a thick fog on a summer morning.
Simon’s teammates tried talking to him, noticing his sudden change in demeanor, but to no avail. The world around him was buzzing, almost like the TV static of an old CRT. And he craved nothing more than to fall into the void of numbness.
“Simon?” Your voice broke through the darkness of his mind as you came to stand in front of him, soft and careful and just what he needed to hear. Your hand came up to rest on his cheek, and just that simple touch gave him a world of comfort. He leaned into your palm, bringing his hands up to your hips and gently tugging you towards him until you were straddling his seated form.
Simon knew that you were the only person in the world who could keep him grounded in the present, bring him back from the scariest depths of his wretched mind, and so tonight he was going to be selfish and take all the comfort that you’d be willing to give him.
Feeling a tightness in his throat and a stinging in his nose, Simon brought you impossibly closer and buried his face in your neck.
You held your husband, feeling his body shake as he was wracked with silent sobs. Simon wasn’t one to hold back how he was feeling from you—you both had worked too hard on communicating your emotions to each other for all that to be taken back now—but you had only ever seen him cry once before: the day you got married. And that too was only a single tear before he composed himself.
“You wanna tell me what you’re feeling?” you asked gently, letting him know you’re here to talk without making him feel pressured to do so.
When Simon continued to just hold you, you didn’t press the matter, presuming he didn’t want to discuss it right now. But eventually, he sat back, keeping a firm hold on your waist while finally bringing his blood-shot eyes to you.
“When we raided those houses tonight, the last thing I expected was to find little girls and boys chained up in a decrepit basement like rabid animals,” Simon began, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes as he gazed away, lost in the memory of the night before. “The mission was supposed to be a simple bust, something with illegal weapons.” He shook his head. “But human trafficking?”
It sickened Simon to think of all the other operations they were probably running that would take him months, if not years, to bust.
“When I saw the girl,” Simon continued, talking about Harper, “For a second…I saw myself in her. She was the most severely injured out of all the kids, and somehow, I just knew it was because she had been fighting her captives tooth and nail.”
He then shook his head again with a scoff. “I don’t know…I just had this visceral need to protect her.”
You didn’t try to analyze Simon’s feelings, because that wasn’t your job. You weren’t his therapist, you were his wife. So you nodded in understanding and brought your arms around him again, resting your cheek on the crown of his head.
“You did the right thing bringing Harper here while they look for her family. She could use a stable environment right now,” you said.
“Harper? Is that her name?” Simon questioned, and you beamed down at him.
“Yeah, she told me upstairs.”
“She spoke to you?”
You shook your head no. “Pointed to an old issue of Harper’s Bazaar I had laying out,” you chuckled.
“Hmm.”
You watched as Simon got lost in his head again.
“Listen to me,” you said, bringing his attention back to you. “Harper’s safe now. She’s here, and we’ll take care of her for as long as needed before she goes back to her family.” You took Simons hands, which were still holding your waist, and brought them to your front, interlocking your fingers with his. “She has been through something traumatic. And it will take time, but she will bounce back. I can see the fight in her.”
Simon contemplated your words, thinking back to the fight Harper had put up when he tried to help her, thinking he was another bad man trying to hurt her. She had cowered at the sight of him, especially scared because of the skull plate mask he wore. At that understanding, he took it off, and explained to her gently that they were there to save her. She had reluctantly accepted help, though not from him. A female sergeant had interjected and further calmed her down, gaining enough of her trust to get her to the evac plane.
Harper was jumpy and sensitive to the loud noises around her, living in a perpetual state of fear until he brought her to you. He knew if anyone could give her the care she needed, it was his wife.
“Maybe,” Simon mused. “It’s not that I don’t think she’ll be fine, it’s that the road there is unfathomably difficult and just as equally traumatizing.”
You nodded your head, knowing Simon was speaking from experience. You wouldn’t diminish his past by pretending that you understood what he was going through. You just had to pull him out of this downward spiral.
“That’s why having a support system is so important. And she’ll have that in us for as long as is allowed,” you said.
You smoothed a thumb across Simon’s cheek, pained at the anguish radiating off him in waves. You’d never seen him like this before, but you would do everything in your power to provide him solace.
And Simon noticed, saw how much you reassured him and tried to give some peace of mind with small touches and understanding glances.
After weeks away from you, and especially after the events of the day before, he needed to kiss you, to feel the physical connection. It was gentle at first, just a soft brush of his lips against yours. But it morphed into something deeper at your small moans and whimpers.
Oh, how Simon loved the noises you made for him, and he’d die before he let them be someone else’s. He’d die before he let you go.
“I love you,” Simon whispered as he slightly pulled away, grazing his thumb across your now swollen bottom lip. The love Simon had for you was beyond what regular words had the capacity to explain, and to sic the English language on it would be a disservice. But he made do with the simplest ones, hoping you felt the power lying underneath them.
You smiled, knowing that he didn’t have to say it for you to feel it. There wasn’t a time in your years together where you didn’t feel loved by him. You could see it in the way his eyes softened when he looked at you, at the possessive way he held you at any given moment, by the tone of his voice when he talked to you.
“I love you, too,” you whispered back.
You spent the next couple of hours just talking, updating him on everything he missed during his absence. Work drama, doctor’s visits, an impromptu trip you took with your sister when you were feeling lonely. Everything you both could talk about, you did talk about.
These were your favorite moments with him, the quiet nights where you could just enjoy each other’s presence. You could move to the ends of the earth with Simon, the freezing tundra or the blazing desert, and they would still feel like home as long as he was with you.
After a while, when your eyes got droopy and frequent yawns interrupted your conversation, Simon gathered you up in his arms and took you to bed.
He desperately wanted to fuck you, feel that ultimate connection with you, but he saw that you were too tired for all that. This pregnancy was taking its toll on you, and he regretted the times he couldn’t be there to help you through it.
“Life’s too short to have regrets,” you had told Simon before he went on his most recent mission, after he had voiced his remorse at not being with you at your most vulnerable. You had been sad about his departure—you never stopped being sad—especially because you’d been blessed in that he hadn’t been deployed for most of your pregnancy. But such was the life of a military wife, having to see your spouse leave to go on dangerous missions and wondering if those were your last moments together.
Those kinds of thoughts weren’t worth your brain-space, you told yourself. But your anxiety made that hard.
Nonetheless, you thanked your lucky stars that Simon was back with you now, tightly holding onto him in bed.
You went on to sleep peacefully, feeling Simon’s protective body curled around yours. And although sleep usually eluded him, tonight, Simon finally got a good night’s rest with you in his embrace.
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